Last Cigarette
by FoxyG
Summary: oneshot deathfic Klaus and Dorian's last moment.


_A/N: Based entirely on mhikaru's pretty picture, found on Fried Potatoes picture archive. I'd link it but I know how is with links and urls, so I'll just tell you to go to Friend Potatoes and look at it. And look at other stuff there while you're at it._

_It's really short, I know. Hope you enjoy it anyway._

--

He wasn't scared. And only for a moment did he find that odd, but it really did make sense. He had accepted his death as soon as Klaus cursed to himself, stopping in his tracks and looked back at Dorian. They both knew then that they had been caught in a trap--a well-devised one, at that. Only a moment later, ear-splitting gunshots roared in the air, and while they both still ducked, Dorian immediately felt the pressure of bullets going into his body.

His body was now ignoring the pain, and he was feeling numb. They were far away from the attackers. Their bodies took over as they ran, then came to a walk, then ultimately they were limping on the dark, empty streets.

He looked back again at Klaus, who before had been walking with only a slight limp, now a heap on the ground. Only then did Dorian finally react to the gravity of their situation, seeing Iron Klaus fallen, his grey trench coat stained with blood, and his dark hair a mess. He saw blood pooling from his shoulder. Dorian himself had gotten shot in the leg and at a spot near his hip, possibly rupturing an organ. He wasn't considering his own injuries, however.

He limped towards him and bent down. As he did so, Klaus attempted to lift himself up. Dorian grabbed his good shoulder and helped him steady himself.

"Easy," Dorian mumbled, his eyes feeling lazier by each moment. All he felt was tired. The wounds that still bled were secondary, if not third to Klaus' own state.

Klaus looked at him, one of his eyes squinting as blood poured from a scratch on his forehead. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled himself, taking another sharp breath as he finally rested on his hip, "We're done."

Dorian smiled lightly, "I expected you to go down with a fight."

Klaus grunted, "I'll only regret running away from those bastards back there." Dorian continued to smile, and Klaus' own pained and bitter expression softened, his frown relaxing and his scowl straightening. "Why do you look so damn happy?"

"Isn't it obvious?" when Klaus didn't seem to react, he laughed slightly, which came out as more of a cough. Blood dribbled down from the side of his mouth, and he found himself too tired to reach up and wipe it from his face. "You're with me." Klaus look turned dumbfounded, and he chuckled again. "I'm sure you're living your worst nightmare right now, dying with me, but this is all I could have asked for. It's quite the romantic death, don't you think?"

Klaus sighed through his nose, harshly, looking down at the dark pool of blood they were both creating on the street's pavement. "God damn it..." he said in-between gritted teeth. His eyebrows strewn together, "You were serious. The whole time."

Dorian felt light and airy, impenetrable. He only felt amused at every word Klaus said. "Of course." For a moment, his flight descended back to earth as he looked at Klaus, who was still stiffly staring at the red stained cement. His head tipped to the side, looking at Klaus' still handsome features as he stared down death with a brave scowl. He sighed slightly, almost feeling his throat clench up. "I don't always get what I want, I suppose. But that's all right." When Klaus looked back up at him, he was back to his smile. "There's always the next life, right?"

Klaus looked at him for a long moment, neither saying anything. Finally, Klaus looked away and sighed, "Idiot." Dorian felt his stomach leap at the smirk Klaus now had, which remained even after Klaus sighed, "I need a cigarette."

Klaus fumbled for his cigarettes for a second, snorting as he brought up a blood stained carton, with two cigarettes left. He grabbed one by his mouth and offered the other to Dorian, who accepted it. He brought out a light and lit his own quickly. As he was about to hand the light to Dorian, Dorian simply leaned in to his shoulder, bringing his cigarette to be lit by the ashes of Klaus' own.

Klaus put a tentative hand on Dorian's back, which felt sticky with blood. Dorian's breathing was getting lessening by the moment. Dorian's head soon found its way to his chest. "You lit?" Klaus asked. Dorian nodded lightly, his hand gripping Klaus' bloody shoulder.

Smoke billowed around them for a moment. He felt a sting on his leg and flinched lightly, and a cigarette tumbled from his leg to the ground, its filter coated with blood. Dorian's breathing had stopped. Klaus allowed his head to lean forward, seeing Dorian's eyes shut, a light smile on his face, as if he had only fallen asleep. With a smirk on his own face, Klaus slept as well.


End file.
